No Damsel in Distress
by Settiai
Summary: Not long after he started working with Hera, Kanan learned an important lesson.


It took him longer than expected to find her.

The plan had been simple enough. Their mark was a businessman of less-than-savory character, who had been fairly high up in the Imperial Military before he had retired. The man apparently had an attraction to twi'leks that bordered on being an obsession, and—while he had no issues with buying slaves, most of whom disappeared under mysterious circumstances within a few months—everything they had found pointed toward him much preferring to find willing twi'leks to join him in his bed.

Of course, those willing twi'leks had a tendency to disappear under mysterious circumstances in much less than a few months. Which, of course, had led to a rather heated argument when Hera had suggested she go in as bait.

("Over my dead body," Kanan growled at her, his hands clenched at his side.

Hera glared right back. "Don't tempt me," she shot back. "If I had a blaster right now, I might consider it."

If anything, Kanan's fists clenched even tighter. "If you think that I'm going to let you—"

"_Let_ me?" Hera cut in angrily. "Let's make something clear, right now. You don't get to tell me what I can or cannot do. Not ever.")

It wasn't that Kanan didn't understand why she wanted to take the bastard down. Hell, _he_ wanted to take the bastard down. He just hadn't liked the idea of Hera going in there by herself, alone and unarmed.

Considering their carefully laid-out plan had apparently been shot to hell, he couldn't help but feel a bit justified in his concern.

Not that it made him feel even a little bit better.

"Damn it, Hera, where are you?" he muttered. He was full out sprinting down the hallway, and the stitch in his side was reminding him just how long it had been since he'd done any distance training.

The businessman was dead, that much he had gathered. And he'd also picked up that the person who had killed him, a twi'lek, had been taken into custody by his private forces. It had to have been Hera, it couldn't have been anyone _but_ Hera, but why? What could have happened to make her throw their plan aside that much?

Kanan had a thousand and one ideas running through his head, and not a single one of them was even remotely good.

He went careening around a corner and found himself face to face with a guard standing beside a closed door. The man looked almost as startled as Kanan felt, and that moment of distraction was all Kanan needed to knock him unconscious before he had a chance to go for his weapon. Thank the Force for bad training.

Frowning, Kanan let his gaze drift between the guard crumpled on the floor and the door he had been guarding. He knew his luck. There was probably a whole contingent of guards waiting on the other side of the door, just waiting for him to waltz in and give them a target to practice their aim on. But, still, a guarded door? There was at least a chance, albeit a small one, that maybe there could be a prisoner being held inside.

Kanan bit his lip, considering his options. Then he hit the control beside the door before he lost his nerve, bringing his blaster up.

The door opened, and Kanan took a step forward. Then he froze.

Hera looked up from the monitor she had been studying, what looked like Imperial plans scrolling across the screen. Five guards were sprawled unconscious on the floor around her, all of them in various stages of undress from where she had obviously used their own clothes to bind them.

She looked perfectly fine, not even a stitch of clothing out of place. Which, considering the dress she was wearing in order to get their mark's attention, must have taken quite an effort.

"What took you so long?" Hera asked, frowning.

Kanan just gaped at her. "You're okay?" he asked, more confusion than he'd meant slipping into his voice.

Hera stared at him for a second, her brow furrowing. Then a look of realization appeared on her face.

"Oh, Kanan. You didn't think that—" Hera trailed off, shaking her head. "As much as I wish it had been me, I didn't kill him. It was one of his slaves."

Kanan stared at her. "Oh."

"The poor boy disappeared from custody not too long ago," Hera continued, her eyes twinkling. "It seems that he somehow managed to steal one of his former master's ships and make it off planet with all of his fellow slaves before anyone could sound the alarm." The corner of her mouth twitched, as if she was trying to hide a smile. "Such a shame."

"Oh," Kanan repeated. It was all that he could think to say.

Hera held up a datacard. "I got the info," she said, not even trying to hide the self-satisfied smile on her face. "Some of it's outdated, but there are at least a few plans on here that are current. I think they'll be useful."

Kanan just nodded. He would have said "oh" again, but he had a feeling that Hera would call him on it if he did.

As if she had read his mind, Hera walked over and pressed a quick kiss against his cheek. "I told you that you didn't need to worry about me," she said.

Her tone was light, but there was a hint of a warning in it that even he could pick up on. His mind flashed back to their argument from the day before, and he couldn't help but flinch.

"Sorry?" Kanan said. Or, at least, he meant to say it. He had a feeling that it came out sounding more like a question than a statement.

Hera rolled her eyes, but she didn't actually look as if she was angry. "Come on," she said fondly, "let's get back to the ship."


End file.
